


One More Day

by Orianess



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: And some descriptions of gore, Emotional Trauma, Established Relationship, Get your tissues folks and buckle up, M/M, Rating for dark subject matter, Repeating deaths trope, Suicide trigger warning, These aren’t the medical accuracies you’re looking for, This one is gonna hurt, aka Groundhog day, character death but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orianess/pseuds/Orianess
Summary: “Today is Wednesday the 15th, except, it’s been Wednesday the 15th for awhile now. We’re caught in a time loop. I don’t know how or why, only that it started when we got this mission to get this artifact. And today, no matter what I do or how hard I try to stop it, you die.”((Now with Chapter 2 Jack’s Pov))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impossiblepluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/gifts).



> So this is really dark, as one might expect of a death fic. It’s not 100% where I want it to be but I can’t bring myself to edit/touch it up anymore because it won’t ever be perfect but it’s as close as I can get it. I challenge anyone who reads it to do it better, because it definitely can be. 
> 
> There are three references in here to movies/tv shows who did the concept better. Leave it in the comments if you got all three

Mac is startled to awareness by the sound of Jack’s ringtone, AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells, reporting a call at a quarter to 4am. 

Mac curls himself tighter into the nest he and Jack made after falling asleep, the tangle of warm comfortable naked limbs and sheets. He’s tempted to throw Jack’s phone at the wall so he won’t answer it, he just wants a little more time here just like this. Jack starts to pull himself loose from their little human pretzel and answers it with a sleepy, “Dalton.”

Mac groans into his pillow as he listens to Matty’s sharp no nonsense voice on the other end. He doesn’t hear the orders but he was a soldier long enough to recognize a call to action simply by tone alone. Jack mumbles an affirmative and tosses the phone onto the side table, pushing himself up into a slouched upright position.

“Matty needs us early. Rise and shine, kid. We got enough time to shower ‘fore we gotta go.”

Mac kicks his feet in a mock temper tantrum and yells ‘no’ into his pillow. He hears Jack chuckle at his antics so he adds for effect,

“Five more minutes, mom.”

Jack laughs and slaps the bare skin of his exposed ass making Mac yelp and sit up right. 

“You can get your five more minutes on the ride in. Let’s get presentable enough to go save the world again, yeah?”

Mac sighs as he swings himself up and out of the bed, shuffling along with a yawn to follow Jack to the bathroom.

“So much for sleeping in today.” Mac whines as childishly as he can, knowing Jack’s smile is growing by the second for his silliness, “can’t the world save itself for a change?”

Jack laughs as he warms up the shower for them, sliding his boxers off and stepping up to circle his arms around Mac’s waist. He leans in and Mac meets him halfway for just a small kiss, the length of naked skin on skin welcome and comforting. It’s a warm reaffirming touch of lip to lip, a sweet good morning chasteness and sparkling ‘come hither’ invitation.

He leans back, grinning at Mac, brown eyes roving his features with a tired but undeniable happiness. Jack leans in to peck his lips and pulls away to tap a finger on Mac’s nose like he’s warning a nippy puppy.

“Quit your bitchin’ and get it in gear. You know you wouldn’t want to be doin’ anything else.”

Mac sighs, obviously aiming for over the top dramatics, “I’d rather be doing you but if you insist we have to go save the world again...”

Jack rolls his eyes with a smirk, opening the shower door to usher Mac into the steam first. “Yeah, yeah, come on mister, if you hurry we might have enough time to do both.”

Mac likes the sound of that.

—

They meet Matty at the airport nearly forty minutes later and get a rough outline of details while the plane is prepped for take off. He vaguely thinks that this mission must indeed be serious if she meets them in person at almost 5am instead of sending a courier with their briefings. Mac’s brain is still partially asleep so he doesn’t understand everything Matty tells him but he gets a packet of information shoved into his hands and a hurried order to get going.

“Where are we going exactly?” Jack asks as they start to load up.

Mac flips open the packet of papers and checks the coordinate details. “New York apparently. Something about a terrorist cell trying to get into a museum for a recently discovered artifact.”

Riley and Bozer are along for the mission too, but as soon as they board the plane, they find a comfortable bench and resume trying to catch up on the sleep they were clearly missing.

Jack sits with Mac for the ride, asking the occasional question about the mission, reading the packet with Mac, making notes and comments as they skim through it.

After they’ve gone through it for an hour or so, Mac sets the paperwork down and leans into Jack, eyes heavy and longing for a little more shut eye before they have to get ready.

“So these folks want the artifact for what exactly?”

“No one’s sure. But these people make El Noche’s guys look like petty crooks. If they want it, it could be something serious. They’re suspected to make a move during a private orientation at noon today, it’ll be the only time the museum’s security detail will be involved in crowd control, not focused on exhibit safety.”

“Hmm.” Jack huffs, “Feels a little Raiders of the Lost Ark doesn’t it?”

Mac smiles against Jack’s shoulder. “Does that make you Indiana Jones ?”

Jack laughs a little, pressing a kiss to Mac’s hair, and pulls him closer so they can recline on the bench seat together.

“If it does that makes you my Marian. ‘Whatever you do Marian, don’t look at it!’” Jack quotes in Harrison Ford-like mock seriousness, pulling Mac closer against his side. 

It’s a bit silly but it makes Mac’s heart beat a little faster, remembering Marian was ‘TheOne’ for Indy, although he doubts Jack means it exactly that way. Their relationship isn’t really new, but they really haven’t discussed in great detail what they want going forward, if this is a temporary or forever sort of deal. Mac knows what he wants, but he’s not going to rush Jack into an answer either, he’s happy to take it one step at a time.

After a moment of silence, Jack adds, “Seriously though, I don’t like this Mac. Missions where we have fewer details than the bad guys always go south for us man. Feels like some serious Twilight Zone stuff.”

“Don’t worry, Indy. I got your back.” 

Jack freezes under his hands and squeezes Mac’s shoulder for emphasis. “Mac, I’m dead serious man, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Promise me you’ll be careful today. Please?”

Mac holds very still, wraps himself a little tighter into Jack and nods. He can only think of a handful of times Jack’s admitted out loud to being nervous of an op and he’s been right about most of them.

“Okay, Jack. I promise. You be careful too, alright?”

“I’ll be fine if you are, you know that.”

“I know.” Mac promises softly and let’s himself doze off to the soft beats of Jack’s steady heart, the feeling of Jack’s fingers moving smoothly through his hair.

—-

The five hour flight is quicker than expected and when they touch down a little after 10am, they set about getting into positions at the museum downtown.

Riley sets up shop in the building across the street for surveillance while Jack, Mac and Bozer head inside to scope out the museum layout. Bozer does an excellent job of getting the floor guard distracted with chit chat so Mac can examine the artifact up close in its case.

Jack keeps look out, pretending to be an overzealous tourist but when no one is near him, he makes notes over the comm to Riley about possible points of entry for the suspected heist. 

Mac studies the artifact intently, curious about why this thing is so special to a terrorist group. It’s just an old wooden box, mostly shaped like a chest, it’s bronze aged hinges discolored under the bright exhibit lighting. It’s about the size of a medium jewelry box, so it can’t be holding anything too spectacular. It doesn’t have much information posted about it, only that it was located in Greece and thought to date back to the latest years of the Colosseum, presumed to be a coronation gift between emperors. Mac is so deeply lost in thought about it’s simplicity he doesn’t even notice Jack slide up to stand beside him.

“So this is it, huh?” Jack asks softly, snapping a photo with his phone, pretending to take a selfie with it to maintain his charade. “What makes this thing so special?”

“No clue.” Mac tells him honestly and Jack must hear something in Mac’s tone because he stares at Mac for a long few seconds.

“Could it be hiding something?” Jack asks and Mac shrugs.

“Maybe. Matty’s research team was working on a theory that it might be important to one of the royal lines in Greece. The idea is its intended use would be ransoming for trade off. That’s just a best guess. No one has come forward to claim it, for historical value or otherwise. It was apparently a donation.”

Jack hums noncommittally, eyes constantly scanning the exhibit hall, mentally resuming his in depth assessment of the hall. Mac watches as a field trip class of students gathers around a taxidermied lion and a gladiator model while an older man, clearly a museum guide, regales them with ‘history’ about bloody Colosseum games. It’s clearly over dramatized as the man speaks but it would’ve been the exact kind of thing Mac would’ve wanted to hear when he was their age, so he can’t help himself from smiling at it all. 

Mac is about to tell Jack and Bozer to wrap it up and head back to the meet point across the street with Riley to prep for the mission when Mac smells something strange. It smells sweet and fruity.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

Light gray fog starts rolling in through the vents at the same time the exhibit hall doors shut and rattle with locks being thrown. The children from the field trip start to scream ‘fire’ and huddle closer together in terror. But this isn’t smoke pouring in through the vents, it’s nitrous oxide, laughing gas. The heist is happening now. 

Mac, Bozer and Jack plug their noses and cover their mouths while Mac hears over his comm Jack’s urgent voice telling Riley to go radio silence, heist is in play and they’re going into stealth ops while they figure out a new plan. Riley gives a quiet agreement just as Mac sees Bozer stagger and sink to his knees, knowing his friend must’ve not had a good cover on his nose when the gas started rolling closer to them.

Mac and Jack’s eyes meet from across the hall in hard agreement and they sink to the ground when the other museum patrons fall unconscious on the floor. 

Mac holds his breath to the count of one hundred seconds when he hears one set of doors from behind him opening. Three sets of footsteps walk past him, and he keeps an arm thrown over his eyes so that he can see under his arm toward the exhibit. They aren’t masked so Mac risks taking a breath and is relieved to find that the trace of nitrous oxide from before is very faint, already wearing away.

“Looks like it worked.” A heavy male accent says, eastern Russia, if Mac has to guess.

“Was a good plan. Make it quick, gas should only hold three minutes or so.” Second voice says, lighter but still gruff.

Three men stop in front of the case, and set down a tool bag, before setting about cutting the glass with a highly sophisticated looking laser cutter. He can clearly make out side holstered weapons from this angle so he stays still. They can’t risk a firefight around all these civilians. 

Mac hears Jack whisper, barely audible, into his comm, “what’s your play, Mac?”

Mac carefully uses the arm covering his eyes to palm his ear piece and whisper back at the same volume. “Hold. Armed.” 

He keeps watch as the trio handle the glass cutting and removal with expert care. One of the men opens up a brief case as the other transfers the artifact inside it with a brisk touch, like handling a hot pan. As soon as the case is closed, the trio throw the tools in the bag and load up, walking back out the same way they came in. As soon as the door shuts behind them Mac hops to his feet and he sees Jack stand up in time with him, both setting their comms back in.

“Riley, they’ve got the artifact. Need you to look and see if you can see any movement on the roof?” Jack orders as he quickly checks Bozer’s pulse, giving Mac a nod to reassure him that his friend is alive and fine.

Mac is already heading for the door, Jack two steps behind him as Riley reports that the roof, one floor below her view is empty of activity. 

“They must have a getaway car outside.” Jack says what’s already in Mac’s mind. “I’ll take the west staircase, you take the employee elevator and lets see if we can head them off.” Jack orders handing Mac an employee id badge that he swiped who knows when. 

Mac takes the badge and runs for the elevator and watches Jack disappear out the door. The ride down four floors feels excruciatingly long, and he hopes it wasn’t a mistake on their part to try it this way. As soon as the elevator doors slide open Mac can hear Jack (he knows Jack’s patented boxing workout breathing in any setting) scuffling with someone on the floor above the lobby.

“Mac, ten o’clock!” Jack shouts at him and he realizes that one of the goons, the one with the case, is heading his way. He doesn’t know where number three is, assumes Jack has handled him already.

Mac grabs one of the round thin shields decorating the wall in front of him and hurls it like a tomahawk, knocking said goon off his feet and sending him crashing head over heels down the stairs. He vaguely hears Riley report that an alarm has been tripped on the exhibits original level and police are in route and a warning to get the case and get out. 

Mac manages to grab the case but he only makes it about three feet before he’s caught behind the knees and tackled to the ground by the goon he just knocked down. The case pops open and skids to the side as they start to brawl on the tile floor, Mac managing to avoid most the worst of the blows aimed for his face. This guy has probably fifty pounds against Mac and he knows he can only trade blows with the man so many times before he gets laid out. Boxing is more Jack’s thing than Mac’s.

He takes a hit to the chest that has him winded enough he’s on his knees too long, giving the thief a chance to make a grab at the case. Mac throws himself at the man and is relieved when he feels a body at his back, yanking on the goon and knows Jack’s come to back him up at last. Jack whirls the man up to face him and delivers a right hook that sends the man to his back, completely knocked out.

Jack and Mac stand there panting for a second, both winded from their various fights, before Jack gets to the case and shows Mac that’s it’s empty. The both start searching the ground and Mac sees it shoved into the corner, apparently bounced out by the crash to floor from earlier and slid out of range of the fight.

Mac is trying to find a gentle way to pick up the item , it’s who knows how many centuries old after all and bound to be very delicate, but when the sound of police sirens pulling up outside announce company Jack makes the decision for him. The older man grabs the artifact and slams into the case, clicking it shut and locked before Mac has time to protest, to fuss at him for potentially damaging a possibly priceless piece of history. 

He winks at Mac with a hang-dog grin, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Mac rolls his eyes to suppress the laugh that almost escapes him and fishes his wallet out with their government badges out. Jack reports to Riley over comms that the artifact is retrieved and to stay put, that they have to deal with the cops who have started swarming the entrance to the lobby.

The first three pairs of police that charge in demand they put their hands up and Jack puts the case between his feet on the floor before doing exactly that. Mac keeps his hands up but lets his wallet flip open, exposing the gold badge inside.

“Gentlemen, I’m Angus Macgyver and this is my partner Jack Dalton, we work for the US government. We just stopped a heist and if you’ll let us come closer we’ll explain everything.” 

The police don’t respond at first, just exchanging suspicious glances at each other.

“Guys there’s a room full of people upstairs who were gassed out for the heist, you should probably get medical on scene.” Jack adds, and he and Mac share an exasperated look when one of the police, a younger man possibly a rookie, barks at them not to move.

“Okay boys, stay nice and still and we’ll get you sorted out if you are who you say you are.” One of the more senior officers with a thick Brooklyn accent says and starts to approach but he doesn’t make it three steps before the sound of a gun’s sharp report rings out in the almost silent lobby.

Time slows to a crawl for Mac as he watches in perfect slow motion Jack look at him in absolute surprise, and start to tip backwards.

Mac’s brain takes almost a full three seconds to realize Jack’s been shot in the chest. 

It takes him another two seconds to move toward Jack who’s now laying on the ground, hand clutching at his chest like he can’t comprehend what he’s feeling, blood already seeping between his fingers.

Time returns to normal speed as screams of shock and anger surround Mac but he isn’t paying attention to any of the officers, who are swarming over the rookie who apparently was the one to open fire if his horrified expression is any indication. Mac’s too busy kneeling and pulling Jack into his arms, assessing the hole center mass through Jack’s breast bone.

“Jack, no...”

Jack gasps, a choked whimpering sound breaks in the back of his throat and he clutches at Mac’s shirt, his expression contorted in agony and wild disbelief. Mac realizes with horror that from the trajectory of the shot, the bullet has inevitably struck Jack’s windpipe and he’s going to drown in his own blood in a matter of a minute or so. He spent enough time in the Sandbox to know a mortal wound when he sees one.

Jack’s going to die. There isn’t anything to be done.

Mac turns a furious glare on the police who are still squabbling away and screams at them, “we need medical now!”

It won’t do any good but he has to do something, his breaking heart demands it.

One of the men has the good sense to remove the young officer from the scene but Mac doesn’t bother with that train of thought, he turns his focus back to Jack who’s still clinging and gasping against Mac’s chest.

“Mac...” Jack gurgles weakly, and there’s a thin pink froth forming at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t try to talk, it’s okay.” Mac promises urgently, pulling Jack as upright as he can. The broken hissed moan Jack makes from being moved will haunt him forever. “It’s alright, I got you. I got you.”

He presses a hand over Jack’s wound, where the blood is spilling over his fingers far too quickly and he shushes Jack when he bucks against the pain of it. “I know, Jack, it’s okay, I’m here, okay?”

Jack can’t say anything, the pink bubbles from before are now just red and starting to seep a thin trail from the corner of his mouth. He just keeps staring up at Mac and gripping at his shirt like he expects Mac to have a solution for this. The wet gurgling hiss between Jack’s struggling breaths is obvious and sluggish. It’s almost over, he’s got seconds left. 

Mac realizes he can hear Riley shouting at him over the comm but he pulls it out so he can focus on Jack completely. Maybe it’s selfish but he doesn’t care. If he’s going to lose Jack, and this memory will be etched into his brain forever, he won’t have room for Riley’s screams of grief too.

Brown calm eyes lock with Mac’s panicked blue and Mac realizes he doesn’t look scared, just sad. He can very clearly read the shape of the words Jack’s mouthing at him. 

Mac nods and leans down to kiss Jack’s forehead, letting the tears obscuring his vision fall hot and unhindered down his cheeks into Jack’s hair. “I know, I love you too. I’m always gonna love you.”

Jack takes the hand that’s been laying limply at his side and reaches up to clumsily grip at Mac’s wrist. One squeeze, two squeeze and there’s a horrible wet hiss under Mac’s chin and he feels Jack’s hand fall away from his wrist. Jack’s left leg kicks out, a small twitch, and then he completely relaxes, his whole body limp in Mac’s arms.

Mac doesn’t need to put his fingers to Jack’s neck to know he’s gone but it doesn’t mean he’s going to let him go either.

Someone will come and drag him away from Jack’s corpse all too soon. So he’s going to keep holding on as long as he can because he knows he’ll never get to hold him again.

—

He doesn’t know how long he sits there holding Jack. The police try numerous times to get him away from Jack but he doesn’t acknowledge them really. His whole world is narrowed down to Jack’s cold form in his arms and nothing else really matters to Mac.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Mac realizes Bozer is kneeling next to him and he manages to look up at his brother, his best friend.

“He’s gone Boze.” Mac whispers and Bozer gives him the gentlest neutral nod in return. Mac wants to compliment him on how good he’s getting at his agent ‘poker face’, he barely saw his lower lip tremble after all, but he can’t think past the words ‘Jack’s gone’.

“I know, brother. And I bet you’re awfully tired aren’t you?”

Mac nods, looking down at Jack’s face, letting a hand wander over Jack’s jaw aimlessly. He’s so cold and pale now, he barely looks like Jack at all. “I am. I’m really tired, man.”

“Well how about we head home then?” Bozer offers kindly and it takes Mac a second to remember they’re not in LA, they’re in freaking New York. 

Mac takes a long last look at Jack’s face and nods. He’s taken long enough to let go, he shouldn’t make the world wait any longer simply because he lost the love of his life. People lose their better halves day in and day out and the world continues on anyway. Now Mac will have to learn just how they do that. 

Bozer helps lower Jack to the ground and hauls Mac to his feet. They only take about ten steps away before Mac’s body betrays him and he collapses to his knees, the grief and realization of what’s happening sucking the very strength from his muscles and turning his limbs useless.

“Oh god, Jack’s gone Bozer!” Mac yells, coughing hard when his voice catches on a sob-scream. 

Bozer just wraps his arms around Mac and says something over his head to someone Mac can’t bring himself to care about. Mac’s too busy watching someone draping a sheet over Jack’s body and he can’t hold back the sobbing anymore, he leans into Bozer’s shoulder and cries the way he did when he first told Bozer about his mom’s death. He cries like a lost child because without Jack that’s all he’s ever going to be now.

God, even trying to breathe around the pain of losing Jack feels like he’s going to die now. He can barely get a full breath between his moaning and sobbing.

He’s too busy clinging and shaking against Bozer to realize he’s been jabbed in the shoulder with something that makes his brain fuzzy and his arm burn hot. He wonders if he might be dying, if somehow he was wounded too and just didn’t notice. 

Mac leans back into Bozer’s protective hold, it’s a nice feeling, and he hears Bozer tell him in a choked tone, “just go to sleep, buddy. I’ll get you home, I promise.”

“Don’t leave Jack.” Mac manages to remember to say around the fuzzy feeling in his head and his suddenly heavy eyes lids. He can’t see Bozer but he feels him tighten his hug on Mac a fraction more.

“We’re going home. All of us.” He promises.

Mac wants to correct him, remind him that without Jack he won’t have a home but he’s too tired to argue and he gives in to darkness.

—

As it turns out, he’s only out for a few hours (thanks to a sedative provided by a helpful EMT) and wishes he could say it lasted longer. Wishes he could say he doesn’t remember why he was unconscious in the first place.

They’re on the Phoenix jet, heading for final approach if the angle of the sunlight is any proof. Mac sits up from having been leaned against a window, pulls the blanket loosely hanging over him up over his head and hides under it. While he’s under it, he realizes he’s no longer in his own clothes, figures Bozer must’ve changed him out of the clothes Jack bloodied while he clung to him in his last moments. When he returns to sanity he’ll have to thank him, it was a thoughtful and kind gesture. useless but thoughtful.

He overhears Bozer and Riley talking a few seats in front of him, just quiet whispers, but it’s loud in the silence in Mac’s head.

“ I’ll take first watch tonight.” Bozer says quietly. “You can stay at the house if you want, if you don’t want to be alone.”

There’s a soft wet sniffle from Riley. “I’ll uh-... probably go home for a bit when we get back. I’ll come over in the morning if that’s ok?”

“Yeah of course. I let Leanna know I won’t be home for a couple days. She said she’ll get groceries for their place when we get back.” Bozer whispers, his voice strained thin for a second. 

“Boze?” Riley’s tone is so gentle and worried, Mac feels his throat close up with the oncoming threat of tears. At least they have each other to turn to right now.

“I’m okay. Just freakin’ out a little.” Bozer promises, continuing reluctantly. “I was able to help Mac after his mom but this... is different. Without Jack-“

“I know.” Riley sighs and there’s a quiet little sob from her. “It’s going to be so bad.”

Understatement of the year.

Mac doesn’t listen after that, doesn’t want to. He knows Bozer and Riley were Jack’s family too, that he should care about their suffering and grief for their fellow agent, mentor and friend, a father in Riley’s case, but he just can’t. 

The hollow ache in his chest is consuming everything, including what he knows should be genuine concern for his fiends. If the hollowness in his chest consumes much more than it already has, he might just turn into a black hole and disappear into a vortex beyond this world. He feels only a little selfish thinking being swallowed by a black hole would be ideal compared to this pain.

Everything from there is a blur and Mac thinks vaguely he must be in some sort of fugue state of shock. He walks off the plane under his own power, well with an arm hung loose around Bozer’s shoulder for support, and he gets driven home. 

Well, it was his and Jack’s home, it’s just a building now. Just a three bedroom, two bath building of wood and stone that contains the imprinted memories of his and Jack’s laughter and love. It’s going to be so empty now. He may have to a find a new place to live. It doesn’t matter that it was his grandfather’s anymore. It only matters how long he’ll be able to sanely live in a place determined to remind him of his all too short years with Jack.

Bozer ushers them inside, somewhat awkwardly, and when the silence feels like it’s going to squash Mac like a bug, Mac turns to Bozer and gestures at the bedroom.

“Think I’m going to lay down for a while.” Mac says softly, his voice is thin and whispered but he doesn’t have the strength for more volume. 

Bozer follows him to master bedroom and after checking subtly that there isn’t anything for Mac to hurt himself on directly, he goes to excuse himself but Mac stops him.

“Could you uh- stay with me for a little while?” Mac hates that his voice trembles as he asks. He’s being weak, he knows, but he can’t help it. He knows Bozer would probably rather be going home to Leanna to grieve privately in the comfort of her arms, and instead he’s babysitting Mac’s broken self (again). But truly, he really can’t stand the thought of being alone in the bed he and Jack shared. He doesn’t want to be alone and he’s never felt more alone in his whole life.

Bozer just answers, “sure man, sure. Get comfy and I’ll be right there.” 

They both climb in, Mac lays on Jack’s side and pulls all his pillows into a pile under his face and immediately tears up as he smells Jack in them and around him. He feels Bozer lay down beside him and drag him closer into a strong hug but Mac can’t look up at him, he doesn’t want to stop imagining it’s Jack’s arms around him.

They lay like that for a long time, Bozer rubbing gentle circles into Mac’s shoulders, silence between them as Mac cries himself to the point of exhaustion. He thinks that the sun is going down finally, the room is very dim now, slowly getting dragged into the dark with Mac. He vaguely wonders if anyone’s called Jack’s family yet.

The last thing he pictures before he falls into merciful sleep is Jack smacking his bare ass before they left this morning and of Jack’s low chuckle as he climbed out of bed.

—  
—  
—

Mac wakes to AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells, jolting to awareness and the first thing he thinks is that this isn’t right.

No scratch that it, it shouldn’t be possible.

Because instead of Bozer, Jack is laying beside him, slowly working his way out of the tangle of Mac’s arms to grab at his ringing phone.

He watches in stunned silence and confusion as Jack answers the phone with a graveled, “Dalton.” Hears Matty’s voice on the other end, sharp voice shrill over the receiver. Jack gives a tired agreement to whatever she said and starts to sit up.

Mac sits up, panic washing through his gut as he watches Jack stretch his back in a slouched position, his muscled shoulders quivering as he flexes the sleep from them.

“Matty needs us early. Rise and shine, kid. We got enough time to shower ‘fore we gotta go.” Jack turns to look over his shoulder at Mac and his sleepy expression instantly becomes worried. “Mac what’s wrong?”

Mac feels like he can’t breathe, that’s what’s wrong. 

What the fuck is happening? Is he hallucinating ? Jack died yesterday, he remembers it distinctly. The hot blood under his hands as Jack bled out in his arms, the way he had to cling to Bozer for strength to walk inside the house, the way he cried himself to sleep in Jack’s pillows, he remembers it.

Mac feels his chest aching and Jack, or hallucination Jack or whatever he is, is suddenly in his face resting his hands on Mac’s jaw and staring into his eyes with fear. His hands feel real, but then again so does everything he remembers from yesterday. He feels like he’s losing his mind.

“Mac, darlin’, breathe!”

Mac manages to suck in a tiny painful breath through his teeth and his head spins with the sudden oxygen rush. Jack is patting his cheek and Mac has to work hard on focusing on the words Jack is saying to him. 

“Mac what’s wrong? Please, talk to me baby?” 

Mac reaches up to grab Jack’s wrist and focuses on the very real warmth of hands gripping his face, Jack’s calloused fingers firmly holding onto him. The steady thrumming of a pulse under his fingers.

“I’m okay... I think.” Mac breathes shakily, eyes studying Jack’s face now inches from his. The fear and confusion he’d felt on waking were falling back to the deeper parts of his mind and even though things didn’t feel ‘right’ still, he was less certain that what he’d felt early was real, because right now this felt realer, so to speak. It was all so confusing. “I just... I had a dream I think. It felt so real. So real.”

Jack nods sympathetically and he would understand better than anyone. The older soldier has always had intense nightmares when he has them, especially when something from his Delta days comes to the forefront of his mind. He squeezes Mac’s neck in a grounding little brace and Mac leans in to press his forehead to Jack’s, taking comfort from the smell and warmth of his nearness.

“Whatever it was Mac, you’re okay. You’re safe with me, alright? I got you.”

Mac shudders, thinking of his dream and a dying Jack clinging to him and looking for help. He thinks how he had held him and told him too, ‘I got you.’ His skin has goose bumps and Jack sets about rubbing his arms to help him chase back the chill setting into his skin.

“You wanna talk about it?” Jack offers gently and Mac decides he really doesn’t so he shakes his head and opens his arms to Jack for a hug. Jack doesn’t say anything, just draws Mac in and holds him, the undeniably strong shelter of his arms the only comfort Mac could possibly need right now.

They sit there for a few minutes and Mac takes his time inhaling Jack’s sleep warm musk, focusing on each easy breath. It feels right. It’s feels real. Nothing else matters, for a least a few seconds. 

After a moment Jack pulls back and sighs, tipping Mac’s chin up with a gentle finger for a light kiss. “I hate to cut this short, but Matty didn’t sound like she was playin’ around when she said she needed us. We better get goin’, okay?”

Mac nods and follows Jack when he starts toward the bathroom, trying to turn off the uneasy creeping feeling at the back of his mind.

\- 

When they make it to the airport, roughly a half hour later, Mac greets Matty and takes the file in her hand. He flips it open to the first page while she starts to give him a run down on the mission specs, and his gut sinks at the location coordinates.

New York. The museum. 

Mac feels his lungs seize up and refuse to take in new air. He’s going to pass out. He’s sure of it. 

This can’t be happening.

Jack claps him on the back as Riley and Bozer appear, and all three of them start heading for the plane. Matty eyes him as he goes to take a step forward and stumbles immediately. 

He looks at the packet in his hand and then back to her and asks just loud enough to be heard over the roar of plane engines coming to life in the background. “What is today’s date?”

She stares at him, perplexed, like it’s not clearly written in the packet she just handed him, and tells him, “March 15th, Wednesday?” 

Mac just nods and goes to get on the plane, his brain already running through so many ideas.

He takes a seat next to Jack, walking past Riley and Bozer who’ve already selected a bench to rest on for the five hour flight. He can’t help but notice the position Riley lays in, her head tipped back to the left, her curled hair in a loose pony tail covering her left shoulder is exactly the same as his dream from before. Even Bozer’s squirming to find a comfortable position is the same, two twitches to the left, a sigh, one shift to the right, chin tucked to his chest.

It’s exactly how he remembers it.

Mac’s brain screams at him to not ignore this, that none of this is a coincidence. It wasn’t a dream he had. He doesn’t know what you’d call it, a premonition maybe, but it doesn’t matter. He knows what he remembers is important, that it’s playing out precisely like it did before and if that’s true, he knows how this day is going to end. He can’t let that happen.

“Yo, Earth to Mac!” Jack snaps his fingers in front of Mac’s face and it causes Mac to jerk and stare at Jack in surprise.

“You okay, man?” Jack asks him, his irritated expression shifts to worry when Mac doesn’t respond other than to stare at him.

“I’m uh, not feeling so great. But I’m okay.” He says, uncertain and fights the urge to duck Jack’s hand when he touches Mac’s forehead to check him for a fever.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m...not sure. I’m sure it’s nothing though. I’m sorry I spaced out on you, what did you ask me?”

The look Jack gives him is fond and a touch exasperated, “I asked you if you want to go over the specs together and figure out what we’re walking into?”

Mac just nods but he barely pays attention to the packet as a whole. He’s only concerned with running the mission from before in his head to figure out how Jack had gotten killed in the first place and what he was going to do to prevent it from happening again.

—

They arrive at the museum a little earlier than expected and start setting up for the heist prevention. Riley works on getting her things set up while Mac, Jack and Bozer head across to the museum to check out the layout.

Mac checks his watch a lot while they pace the floors and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that he’s going crazy. He goes over to the artifact in question and stares at it, mind running at a few thousand rpms while he tries to think ahead of how to stop the heist before it happens. At this point, the mission is no longer at all about the little ancient treasure box in front of him, his mission is 100% about Jack’s safety.

Mac checks his watch for the third time in a minute and feels, rather than hears, Jack approach. “You might have better luck settin’ that thing on fire with actual fire, instead of tryin’ to burn a hole into it with telepathy.”

Mac doesn’t say anything and Jack sighs beside him softly.

“Mac, buddy, your brain has you running a maze again doesn’t it?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re drifting a lot today, are you up to this? No need to get yourself killed for being out of it, you know?”

Mac shudders again and switches his fear into determination. No one is dying today. He won’t allow it.

He checks the time once more, it’s now 10:35. They got here early, because they got on the plane early. He decides he’s going to take advantage of that and plan ahead. If they can disable the gas machines before they go off, they may be able to ward off the thieves before they even get started.

He tells Jack and Bozer he’s going to check out the floor above and asks them to stay and keep an eye out for suspicious characters.

“You think they’re already here ?” Jack wants to know and Mac honestly isn’t sure, but he doesn’t want Jack to leave Bozer’s sight. He knows they’ll look out for each other and Mac’s certain checking out the vents won’t be dangerous.

“Maybe. Keep any eye out and let me know if there’s any changes.”

It takes longer than he’d like, but he does find the gas tanks in place, a timer ticking them down. He dismantles it with no issue and reports it over the comm as he starts a brisk walk back to the team to regroup.

“Found what they were planning to use as their distraction. I’ve shut it down, but they may still make their move without it. We need to set up in place and keep watch.”

“Copy that. Let’s meet up in the lobby and-“

Mac can hear over the comm a loud Bang from Jack’s side and the screams of multiple people. More bangs. No mistaking the sound of a militarized high caliber weapons discharging. He breaks into a full tilt run for the exhibit hall, listening to audio chaos as Jack and Bozer shout over the comm that there’s a shooter inside.

“Mac you gotta-!” Jack starts to say when suddenly his voice just stops with a muffled grunt.

“Jack!” Mac shouts back, icy terror washing through his chest when he doesn’t get a response. He resolutely tries to ignore the still obvious screams he can hear over the comm, til suddenly he can hear nothing. No screams, no shots fired, just silence.

He knows before he gets to the doors of the hall what he’ll find but it doesn’t stop him from praying that it won’t be true.

He smells the blood before he even opens the door.

Mac throws his weight on the door and when it swings open it stops abruptly against the weight of a dead body, an older man collapsed in an awkward bloody heap behind it. He only blinks at the body for a moment before his eyes take in the full room, the carnage of a mass shooting, bloodied bodies of young and old strewn about everywhere. He has seen shit like this before, back in Afghanistan, but he has to bite his hand to keep himself from throwing up. It’s not a sight someone gets used to.

He’s not really intending to look, but he does notice that the artifact is gone, the case smashed and ransacked. 

His steps over multiple victims, slipping once in a pooling blood puddle, and he about falls to his knees when he sees Jack, ten steps away. He’s as still and dead as everyone else in the hall. Bozer is laid out beside him, eyes half open, glazed with death.

He stands there trying to remember how to breathe for about ten full seconds when he realizes he can hear Riley shouting at him in his ear.

“-do I need to contact Matty! Mac! What’s happening?”

It takes him a few seconds to remember what the protocol for circumstances like these are. Mac clears his throat and answers as calmly as he can. “Don’t move, Riley. Get your gear together, I’m coming to get you. I’m going off comm.”

He pulls the ear piece and walks out of the hall and out a back exit, setting off the fire alarm for the emergency exit. As soon as he’s clear of the blaring alarm, he pulls his phone out and calls Matty.

It answers on the second ring.

“What’s up, Blondie?” Matty asks and Mac has to swallow hard to avoid shouting hysterically at her.

“I’m calling in protocol Ryan. Riley and I need immediate exfil.”

“Mac?” Matty’s voice is almost a whisper on the other end, the disbelief in her voice undeniable. “Are you compromised?”

Oh to say the least, he thinks as he remembers Jack and Bozer’s bodies slumped together on the floor of the museum, both bloody and very much dead.

“Mission was a failure...” he stops and has to drag in a long breath to fight for control of his panicking brain. “Agents Dalton and Bozer were killed in action. I will collect Agent Davis and head to the airport.”

“Mac what happened...!” Matty begins to demand and stops herself when Mac clears his throat in an attempt to cover a near sob. “Get to the airport. I will inform Oversight.”

The walk over to the hotel they stationed in for Riley’s tech work passes in a daze and Mac guesses he must be in shock, his body moving on autopilot. When he gets to Riley’s room she opens the door for him and drags him inside.

“What the hell is happening, Mac?” She snaps as soon as the door is shut, but even as she draws a breath to start demanding more answers, she must see the look in Mac’s eyes because she freezes. “Mac?”

He steps forward and takes one of her hands carefully into his, then the other, staring into her frightened panicked eyes. “Riley. I called in protocol Ryan.”

Protocol Ryan being the code name for a mission failed, compromised and resulting in multiple agent deaths. A fail safe to pull agents from the field to keep from losing more members of an already devastated team. 

She stares at him like he’s just smashed her laptop to a thousand pieces. The rage and horror in her face is absolute. “No.”

Mac sighs and closes his eyes against the pain he can see in hers, doesn’t want to see the denial give way to truth. He wants to deny it all too. “We have to get to exfil. Right now.” 

“No, Mac! What the fuck happened in there? You don’t get to just walk away and leave Jack and Bozer-!” She starts to shout but goes silent and when he looks at her again he sees the realization of what he said, what it means, dawning on her. He can feel tears rolling down his face, knows they are the best evidence for the truth.

She covers her mouth and bites down a moan of agony. “No... no it’s not possible.”

Mac really wishes she was right. 

—

They don’t talk on the cab ride back to the airport and they definitely don’t talk on the flight. Mac just puts his arm around Riley and holds her against his side while she staunchly tries to keep her grief muted.

They’ve been in the air for an hour when Riley finally lets out a soft whimpering sob and gives in to the need to cry. Mac continues to hold her without joining in, because some part of him knows that he’s not going to be functional the second he gives in to the roiling hot screams of grief he can feel writhing around in his head. 

He has to be strong for her right now, that’s what he keeps telling himself, that’s what Jack would want him to do. He’s the experienced field agent after all. He’s lost people and partners before but this is all new for Riley. He has to keep himself together, just a little longer. He doesn’t know how to help her though, if he’s honest, so just holds her against him, like he’s trying to keep their broken hearts in one piece by will alone.

When they touch down a few hours later, Matty and James are waiting for them on the tarmac. Mac guides Riley off the plane and into their waiting transport, he barely makes eye contact with either of his bosses. He’s not ready for their pity so he stays quiet and lets them get shuttled back to the Phoenix.

Riley and he get put into one of the warmer interrogation rooms after they both submit to a quick physical evaluation, the usual protocol for a situation like this. Mac then has the wonderful responsibility to recount in front of Riley, Matty and Oversight exactly what happened. The gas timer ‘hunch’ he calls it for a lack of better words (not like he can say he had a dream about it, can he?), the shooting, the exhibit hall littered with people, finding Bozer and Jack, the artifact being gone.

When he’s done, he feels the wall keeping the grief at bay splinter, the incoming crash looming over him, ready to bury him alive. 

Oversight asks very few questions during, just silently nodding along to show that he’s paying attention to everything Mac says. Matty doesn’t say anything, but she looks forty years older. Riley hasn’t moved from where she’s curled quietly into Mac’s side, as if she fears being apart from Mac for any amount of time will rip him away from her as well.

“If we’re done here, I’d like to enact my psych leave.” Mac manages to say and the words have no sooner left his mouth before his vision blurs out as tears finally overtake him.

He shuts his brain down after that. He’s vaguely aware of people coaxing him to move, to change clothes, to drink water. He does as they ask but he’s on autopilot. Mac gets put into one of the Phoenix medical wings and he’s never been more grateful to lay down in the medical ward because it means he can finally give in to the turmoil threatening to eat him alive. He doesn’t have to be strong anymore.

He cries for a long time, doesn’t bother worrying about exactly how long and he most definitely doesn’t care who sees. The only time his tears slow is when, hours later, he sees Riley shuffle into his room. 

She looks exhausted and frail in a pair of spare scrub pajamas as she inches closer to his bedside, her voice thin and watery as she whispers, “can I stay in here with you?”

She sounds so lost and so young, he can’t even consider turning her away, even though all he really wants is to cry himself to sleep in private. But he supposes it won’t make a difference having an audience to share his grief, at least she’ll understand.

Mac just nods and scoots over on his bed so she can join him. She lays down and scoots back against him, her back to his chest, tucking the arm he hangs loosely around her hip tighter against herself. She sniffles and Mac tunes her out as they both resume their quiet suffering.

It feels like an eternity later, when they’ve both cried themselves to the point of exhaustion, Mac hears Riley hoarsely whimper, “it’s not fair, Mac. What did we do wrong?”

Mac is surprisingly grateful for the ‘we’ in her question. It lets him know she doesn’t hold him responsible for this tragedy, even though he knows he is responsible for it. It was him running down the hunch on the gas tanks that led to the thieves making their move early and consequently getting everyone in that room killed. He underestimated the enemy. His brother and his partner were dead because he tried to outwit a bad dream. He’s a fool, he sees that now, a child pretending to understand, and it’s cost him everything.

Mac just shakes his head and sighs, “I don’t know, Riles. Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. I just don’t know.”

He feels the full body trembling in her slow down, feels her breath evening out beside him and opts to ignore the cyclic thoughts promising him incoming nightmares. He wants to give in to the coming sleep, as Riley is clearly doing, so he hugs her gently and whispers, “Sleep, Riley. Maybe we’ll wake up and it’ll all just be a bad dream.” 

When his eyes drift close, he prays for no more bad dreams. 

—-  
—-  
—-

Mac nearly throws himself out of Jack’s arms when AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells start to blare from Jack’s phone.

He barely even hears Jack answer it because he’s running for the toilet. He retches his nearly empty stomach contents into the bowl and whimpers when he hears Jack pace in to check on him.

This can’t be happening. It can’t. It’s not possible. Why is this happening?

“Mac, sweetheart, you okay?” Jack’s concerned voice echoes above him. Mac thinks about giving him an answer before he ends up spitting up more bile, the memory of Jack slumped on the museum floor, still and bloody flashing back in his mind. 

Jack starts rubbing a gentle hand on Mac’s back and he can’t help himself from physically flinching away from him. He doesn’t know if this is real, or if what he just woke up from was real. Even the first ‘death’ he remembers still feels real, despite that he had convinced himself from before it was just a dream.

He has no control of himself, the nearly hysterical noise that spills out of him when Jack starts petting his hair so delicately rings out in their bathroom like a fire alarm. The ‘memory’ of a different fire alarm has him dry heaving and clinging to the toilet for dear life.

After a moment of rasping breaths for air, Mac sits back and stares up into Jack’s face, seeing the familiar way his worry-crinkled eyes study him make his gut roll unpleasantly.

“What’s going on, man? Last night’s dinner not doin’ you right?” Jack wants to know, a sleep warm hand slipping up to check Mac’s forehead for fever. Mac grabs the hand and clings to it, holding on to sanity by Jack’s calloused hand alone.

“Mac?” Jack presses when he doesn’t answer, because he can’t, he’s doing every military breathing control technique in his head to stave off the panic. Jack just gives him a gentle smile after a moment, sweeps the hair on Mac’s face away and kisses the crown of his head. “Stay put. Be right back.”

Mac watches him walk out of the bathroom and barely manages to restrain himself from chasing after him. He needs to get a hold of himself and calm the fuck down, right now, and figure out what’s happening.

His overwhelmed brain doesn’t have any answers for him by the time Jack comes back, carrying a glass of water and his phone. Mac takes the water and sips at it slowly, watches Jack’s every move because this is all completely different from the first two ‘dreams’. Jack produces a damp cloth while Mac’s lost in thought and starts mopping at Mac’s neck and chest softly. It’s soothing the crawling dread in his gut and Mac can’t help the involuntary groan that slips out for how good it feels.

“Thanks, Jack.” He mutters and Jack gives him a small grin.

“He talks. How about that.” 

Mac tries to offer a smile back because all of this feels so natural and so normal, but his suspicions from before wipe it away. He needs to focus but he seriously can’t nail down a train of thought to start on.

“Well, listen Matty needs us at the airport. I texted her and told her you’re not going, so let me get you in bed and then I’ll get going-“

“No! Don’t leave!” Mac almost shouts and they both recoil from the sharpness in his voice.

There’s an excruciatingly long pause, both of them waiting for the other to say something. Eventually, Jack sighs and grabs Mac by the shoulders to pull him up to his feet, carefully walking them back to the bed.

Mac takes another few sips from the water and lays down when Jack presses him to, handing the cup over to be set aside.

“How do you feel?” Jack asks, checking Mac’s forehead again before sweeping his hand to brush Mac’s bangs away.

Mac grunts, wraps an arm around his gut and turns onto his side, enjoying the hand slowly carding through his hair. His stomach still aches and is threatening a revolt but he knows it has everything to do with nerves and nothing to do with last night’s dinner. But if his discomfort will prompt Jack to stay, Mac has no problem telling some white lies to keep him here.

Jack leaves for a moment and returns with the damp rag from before and Mac won’t deny that being pampered this way is a form of heaven he thought he’d never get to enjoy. His partner is always gentle with him, knows how to handle Mac through any situation and it’s helping bring Mac’s brain to a center starting point again.

“What day is it?” Mac asks hoarsely and Jack pauses in wiping his brow to check his phone’s screen.

“Uh, Wednesday. the 15th?” The silent ‘why do you ask’ hangs unsaid.

Mac feels the searing dread overtake him again and he has to fight the urge to run for the bathroom. It’s Wednesday. Again. He just shakes his head as an answer. He can’t explain why the date means anything. He doesn’t understand anything about it himself.

He can only come to one logical solution, if one can apply logic to the insanely impossible reality Mac seems to be living. If it really is Wednesday again, if they go to work today, Jack will die. So the best way to prevent him from dying is to simply not go to work.

“Jack?”

“Yeah, bud?” 

“I-I think... I need you to take me to the hospital.”

Jack’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline and Mac closes his eyes, focuses on making himself look uncomfortable and pained. He’s not a great actor, but he hopes Jack’s worry for his safety will trump his ability to read Mac’s white lie tells.

“You want to go to a hospital?” Jack says the words carefully like he was just told math has been reorganized and now 2 + 2= 5.

Mac nods and sighs, curling into his stomach a little tighter, and when he groans it’s barely a lie at all. “Think something’s wrong. It really hurts.”

Jack moves off the bed and starts tapping out a message on his phone. Mac hears the soft tone report of the message being sent and when he opens his eyes he sees Jack tugging his jeans on, followed by boots.

“Is this a ‘drive me to the hospital I’ll be ok’ thing or a ‘maybe we should call an ambulance’ thing?” Jack asks, voice a little worried as he hunts up some comfortable clothes for Mac to wear. Mac sighs, and shrugs.

“Don’t think it’s an emergency. But- something doesn’t feel right.” Mac says, and all he can do is tell himself he can endure being prodded by a few doctors for a few hours under false pretenses if that means Jack is safe and alive.

Jack brings him a soft cotton shirt and work out shorts to the bed. “You think you can dress on your own while I go start the Jeep?”

Mac nods and Jack helps him sit up, so Mac does his best to look weak and sluggish. It works because Jack gives up leaving the task to him and sets about tugging his shirt over Mac’s head followed by helping him pull his shorts and boxers on.

“Steady there, hoss. Let me do the work.” Jack tells him as he guides Mac up to a standing position and starts slowly shuffling them toward the front door, one of Mac’s arms thrown over Jack’s shoulder while one of Jack’s rests around his lower back for support. 

It feels ridiculous, over exaggerating a stomach ache because he feels paranoid about Jack’s safety. Above all, Mac hates lying to Jack, taking advantage of his trust and concern but he’s desperate to do anything other than relive the ‘nightmare’ of another Wednesday.

Jack gets him into the Jeep and they peel out of the drive way. Mac grabs at Jack’s wrist as he takes a sharp turn onto the main road, doubling forward as the motion makes his nausea less an act and more a reality.

“Slow down, Jack. I’d like to be alive when I make it to the hospital.” Mac scolds without heat and Jack sighs under his breath, taking his foot off the accelerator just a little.

“Happy?” Jack grumbles but his eyes are lined with concern, not anger, and Mac tries to offer up a tiny smile.

“Yes thank you. I’m sorry about this.” Mac adds, leaning against the door, watching the still dark pre-dawn neon-lit world fly by his window. Jack takes the hand Mac has now resting in his lap into his own and gives the back of his hand a kiss, stroking the knuckles gently.

“Don’t be sorry about taking care of yourself, Mac. Just worried about you, dude, that’s all.”

“I know. Love you Jack.” Mac tells him, squeezing the hand holding his, glancing up to see Jack smiling over in his direction.

“Love you too, Mac.”

Mac sits up, intending to get closer to Jack, maybe lean across the center console to steal a kiss but he doesn’t get that far. He sees the outline of a huge shape barreling at them from Jack’s side through the intersection.

“Jack!” He shouts in warning but it’s too late.

It’s a semi truck, all bright horrific headlights and a distorted blaring horn. The impact is deafening. Darkness consumes them both.

—-  
—-

Mac bolts upright in the bed, a cold sweat all over his body and the tune of AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells steals the air out of his lungs.

Jack moves to answer the phone, his sleepy grumbled , “Dalton.” Is like a spike of ice through Mac’s chest.

Oh god it’s happening again. He doesn’t move, watches Jack set the phone aside after Matty gives him their orders and sit up with a slow stretch, the bands of muscle in his shoulders flexing as he turns back to look at Mac.

“Matty needs us early. Rise and shi-... Mac?” Jack asks quietly when he sees that Mac is already awake and staring at him. Mac doesn’t move, he’s already five miles away in his head trying to work out the details of what he knows, trying to solve a puzzle that frankly shouldn’t exist.

“Are you alright?” Jack asks softly, bringing one hand to rest on Mac’s knee in light comfort, clearly afraid to spook Mac.

Mac shakes his head, struggling for words. “M’fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re gonna be sick.” Jack raises a hand to check Mac’s forehead and the gesture kicks him into motion.

“I’m good Jack.” Mac says, scrambling out of bed, looking anything but if Jack’s furrowed expression is anything to go by. “Let’s get a shower before we go.”

Mac grabs his phone off the bedside table and glances at the screen just to be sure. The screen blares back at him in ugly light, March Wednesday the 15th. He throws it back down on the table and goes to shower, leaving Jack to watch his manic behavior with no explanation.

As Mac stands alone under the too-hot spray, he tries to follow the madness in his mind with linear logic. Break the problem down to steps. What do you know? What comes next? 

It has been Wednesday the 15th for three days in a row. Jack has died three times. The day resets to the same time frame every time. Mac doesn’t know exactly what time the reset happens, he hasn’t been lucid for any passages of time for after Jack’s death. There doesn’t appear to be any consistency to how the death happens, and Jack isn’t the only one to die each time. He’s almost ninety percent certain he died in the last day with Jack. Everything happening is some sort of time loop. How did it happen though and why?

Mac nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a blast of cold air indicating the shower door opening behind him. Jack is looking in on him a little wary and gives him a once over like he expects Mac to kick him out.

“Room for one more?” Jack asks, holding out a wash rag that Mac clearly forgot to grab before he hopped in under the water. “I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.”

Mac would have laughed but he can only open his arms to Jack in a silent request for his company. Jack’s smile when he steps in and wraps his arms around Mac nearly brings him to tears.

“You okay, darlin’? You look a little wild-eyed this morning.” Jack asks as he steps back from hugging Mac. Mac just nods, knowing if he tries to explain himself now he’ll start falling apart.

“Just need you to hold me.” Mac requests quietly and Jack’s arms encircle him again, the only anchor to keep himself from drifting off into panic.

-

Mac still hasn’t even begun to figure what to do next when they pull up to the airport. 

He has to stop them from getting to New York. He has to keep Jack safe. But how? Where is safe in their line of work? How does he keep Jack from the danger without tipping him off that something is wrong?

Matty is waiting to greet them by her SUV and it gives Mac a bolt of inspiration. Maybe he can’t keep Jack safe, but Matty certainly can. He starts typing a text in his phone and when Matty comes up to hand him their assignment, he gives her his phone.

((((Jack threw out his back. he’s embarrassed. Don’t tell him I told you. Keep him here today. Please.)))))

Mac pretends to look at the file but he can see Matty react simply by going still and glancing up at Mac. They lock eyes for a second and while he sees disapproval in her dark eyes, he sees concern too. 

Riley and Bozer arrive and Matty addresses them as they walk over to join them. “Mac, Riley, Bozer, you guys go ahead and board up. Jack, I need you with me today.”

Jack stares after Matty with a sharp glare, “no way, Matty, if this mission is priority enough to call us up early, I’m not-!”

“Dalton, this a milk run for these three. We have a... situation at the office that needs your attention.” Matty says and after a brief stare down Jack sighs, deflating a little. he heads over to Mac and gives him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Be safe out there, Mac. Stay in touch. When you make camp, let us know and I’ll link up on your comms.” 

Mac hugs Jack tightly, once more for his own peace of mind, and grabs his bag to follow Riley and Bozer as they board up. Mac glances over his shoulder as Jack follows Matty to the SUV, their conversation too far away to even guess what they’re talking about, but Mac is beyond grateful for Marty’s assistance.

He tries to settle into the flight to think carefully over the details of the mission ahead but as it turns out, it’s all in vain.

They haven’t even been in the air for forty minutes when their jet gets told to head back to LAX. Mac fees his stomach clench in terror.

It turns out to be an earthquake. It caused part of a support beam from the parking garage to collapse. Jack and Matty both were killed instantly. All available Phoenix agents have been recruited to handle clean up and damage control detail. 

Mac, Bozer and Riley stay on stand by to assist with any needed rescues but mostly they sit in Matty’s office and cry. Well Riley and Bozer do, at least. Mac knows the day is going to get erased, and he’s going to use this time to think about how to proceed next when they start over tomorrow. He’s resolutely not going to acknowledge Jack being dead. He’s not going to give up til he figures out how to survive this day with Jack alive. He won’t give up.

——  
—-  
——

He doesn’t give up. It goes on forever. An endless wave of Wednesdays that never cease and are each more horrible than the last.

He’s running out of different scenarios to try, but he keeps trying because he doesn’t think he can stop. 

And he’s tried everything. 

He reroutes their plane in New York. It crashes in the Hudson and it sinks, killing everyone on board. Drowning is particularly horrible.

Mac tells Jack they need to leave the city to out run some bullshit threat he makes up, Mac drives them as safely and quickly beyond its limits but Jack gets killed in all sorts of awful fucking ways. 

He gets shot in a robbery at a convenience store. 

A car crash on the freeway. 

Chokes on a hotdog. 

Burns to death when the gas pumps explode. 

That one might have been the worst so far. Mac can still smell the burnt flesh and hear his screams several Wednesdays later.

Mac convinces Jack to stay in bed the whole day with a barely pretend psychotic break. Jack has a heart attack making breakfast. 

Then the deaths start getting extra weird. When they stay at the Phoenix, there’s a viral outbreak in the lab and Jack dies from some sort of pseudo-zombie pre-dawn of the dead scenario. A different day, Jack gets his neck broken sparring in a freak accident. He gets a looney toons style safe dropped on him from a floor above. One time, he slips down the stairs from a coffee spill. The sound of his spine snapping on the final hit convinces Mac that the Phoenix is a death trap and they need to be anywhere else. 

Mac is so fucking tired of AC/DC he wants to scream.

The only days he manages to keep Jack alive for any real length of time is when he lets them get to the museum without deviating from his first memory. Arrive in New York, get gassed, chase the bad guys. And Mac has relived this version so many times, lost count of how many deaths and Wednesdays it’s been, it’s starting to feel like a video game set on impossible mode and he’s trying for a perfect run through.

That’s what he’s doing right now.

He’s got the artifact in one hand and Jack’s wrist in the other and they’re running full tilt for a warehouse two blocks over. Mac is careful guiding Jack around manholes and shady alleys where death has struck before. Jack is trying to ask him questions but he tells him to just wait till they stop, he’s trying to think. And he is trying to think because, the problem is, when they get to the warehouse, Mac’s run out of strategies for this scenario.

They make it and Jack collapses against the wall to breathe and Mac sets the artifact down beside him. Tells him it’s safe to rest for a minute, he just needs a minute to think of what to do next.

“So what’s the plan, Mac?” Jack asks after a long few seconds of gasping breaths and massaging sore calves from the run. It’s a good question. Mac has no fucking clue.

“We need to stay low. Wait for Riley to track our phones and she’ll send back up.” Mac mumbles and Jack stares at him like he has three heads.

“Mac we ditched our phones earlier at the museum, remember?” Jack says as he paces over to Mac. Mac shakes his head. Right, he does remember that. Yesterday’s Wednesday was the day they still had the phones.

“Oh right, we’ll uh, we’ll go down to the corner and ask the hotel receptionist if we can borrow her phone. She’s helpful. Let’s just rest here a minute or two more.”

“Mac?” Jack whispers, and he looks worried. “What do you mean?”

“I’m tired, Jack. Just- just give me a minute, okay ?” Mac begs and his throat tightens as he realizes he slipped up.

“You said the receptionist is helpful. You haven’t talked to a receptionist since we got here.” Jack presses and Mac closes his eyes as Jack turns him to face him. “Mac, what’s going on, man?”

Mac can’t help a tear that escapes him, or the despairing sob that breaks in his chest. Jack tugs Mac into his arms and holds him close.

“Mac please, you’re scaring me. Talk to me, darlin’.”

So Mac tries something he hasn’t tried yet.

“Jack... what I’m gonna tell you is crazy but I need you to hear me out. Alright?”

Jack pulls back to stare down into Mac’s eyes and Mac can’t stand to see the concern there when Mac has been lying to Jack for several Wednesdays in a row in the name of keeping him safe. He doesn’t deserve that kind of devotion, especially with how he keeps failing Jack. He steps back and takes a deep breath.

“Today is Wednesday the 15th, except, it’s been Wednesday the 15th for awhile now. We’re caught in a time loop. I don’t know how or why, only that it started when we got this mission to get this artifact. And today, no matter what I do or how hard I try to stop it, you die.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, just stares at Mac for a long few seconds, eyes darting around as he considers what he’s heard. When he finally manages to speak, he asks, “So a time loop? Like Bill Murray Ground hog day? Y-you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Mac nods, tears slipping down his face, fast and hot. “Yes, I’m serious. I’ll swear on whatever you want to prove I’m serious. The ranch? Your father’s dog tags, seriously anything, but this is real. And this place?” He waves his hand at the empty dirty warehouse around them. “This is as far as I ever get you. Nothing I’ve done can change it. And losing you every day, Jack... I’m starting to lose it man. I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

When he finally admits it out loud, he cries as brokenly as he did for Jack’s first death. Harsh wracking sobs, deep heaving breaths for the prayers for mercy he wants to say but doesn’t bother with because they never mean anything. If there’s a God, he isn’t listening to Mac. He’s only vaguely aware of Jack’s arms settling around him, the soft whispers in his ear of comfort and consolation. It’s not going to help just how bad this situation is but having Jack hold him before he inevitably loses him helps a little.

“This is some serious twilight zone shit, Mac. How many Wednesdays have you had?”

Mac almost laughs at the worry in Jack’s voice but he settles for hugging Jack tighter. “Too fucking many.”

“I’m sorry this is happenin’ to you. I wish I knew how to help.” Jack says, petting Mac’s hair gently. Mac wonders vaguely if he died this time because this feels like heaven, wrapped safely in Jack’s arms.

“I love you, Jack.” Mac whispers against his neck and when Jack answers, his voice is shaking.

“Don’t say it like a goodbye.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Mac whimpers, clutching Jack’s shoulders, as if by strength alone he can make Jack survive this ridiculous impossible nightmare. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Angus. Whatever this is... it’s not your fault. No matter what happens, you have to know, it’s not your fault. Just don’t let go. Okay?”

Mac sobs. “I won’t ever give up Jack. I won’t let go.”

There’s a strange hitch in Jack’s breathing and Mac has to step back, frightened by this new change to the scene. 

“Jack?”

Jack’s eyes unfocus and roll up in his head. He’s dead before Mac can even lower him to the floor. Mac doesn’t get an autopsy report but he strongly suspects a clot or an aneurysm. 

Mac screams so loud and so long he learns what the sensation of tearing vocal cords feels like. 

—-  
—-  
—-

He keeps trying till he just can’t anymore. He’s failed so much he doesn’t remember what it was like to ever have a success. He doesn’t know how long he’s been dealing with these unending Jack deaths but he can’t be bothered to care.

He’s tried everything. He’s tried everything twice. 

He’s not trying anymore.

He talked himself out of going on the mission this Wednesday, he can’t remember what he said to get out of it, and he’s wandering around the Phoenix waiting for the news to come in. 

He really just wants this day to reset already so he can wake up in Jack’s arms again. It’s the only time he feels any sense of real. He’s pretty sure he’s lost his mind already. 

He wanders down the halls to his father’s office and finds him scribbling over some paperwork. When he sees Mac his face softens just a bit and he waves him in, gestures to him to sit down. Mac does but they don’t talk at first, and the silence lingering between them is wavering.

“Hey, dad, can we talk for a second?”

James looks delighted at the title Mac just used but Mac can’t respond to his smile, his face feels deadened, heavy with the novocaine of despair.

“Sure, son.”

“I, well I guess it’s. Just something I wanted you to know.”

James’ smile dips, looks an edge sharper with concern and he can tell something’s wrong. Mac sighs, figures he should’ve suspected the head of a super clandestine organization could feel him being off kilter before he said anything. Mac feels the outline of the gun he took from Jack’s locker in his coat pocket, strokes it reassuringly.

“I just wanted to say I forgive you for taking off on me when I was a kid.”

James sits back like he’s been slapped but he doesn’t look angry, he looks confused, maybe a smidgen upset. “I uh...”

Mac waves his hand like James hadn’t responded at all and continues on, matter of fact. “I’ve been going through some things lately and I wanted you to know I get it now. What losing the love of your life will do to someone. I really don’t blame you for dropping me off with Harry. I mean, how could you be expected to raise a child when it feels like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, right? Some people manage it, but... I just wanted to say I understand what you were going through.”

Mac pulls the gun from his pocket and lays it in his lap. James carefully stands up, flinching at the sight of it.

“Angus...” he whispers, voice tight with fear and Mac shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” Mac promises, thumbs off the safety of the pistol and checks to make sure a bullet is in the chamber.

James’ desk phone rings and Mac gestures at it with his free hand. “You should get that.”

James picks it up and answers it quietly. “Yes?” There’s a voice on the other end, speaking urgently , and James’ eyes flick over at Mac, wide and sad. “I- I see. Send Mathilda to my office please.”

Mac nods as he puts the phone back down. “Was it the plane crash or the shootout in the lobby this time?”

James stares, gaping, and his eyes dart to the gun in Mac’s lap. He’s frightened, Mac realizes, not for himself but for Mac. That’s nice, he hadn’t expected him to care so much. Too bad it doesn’t count for much right now.

“Angus... Mac, I need you to give me the gun. Please son.”

Mac smiles at the trembling plea in his fathers voice. “You do care. But it’s too late for that.”

James starts a slow circle around his desk but Mac’s made up his mind. He lifts the gun to his temple and his father freezes.

“No Angus, please...” the older man begs, reaching one vividly shaking hand toward him.

“It’s okay, dad. It’s better this way.” Mac closes his eyes and thinks of Jack.

“No!”

The world is gone in a flash. 

—  
—

Mac loves hearing the opening rift to AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells because Jack is here. Jack kisses him so sweetly and before they hurry off for their shower Mac takes Jack’s face in his hands and tells him the only truth in the world Mac can remember.

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

They lay in their bed, in each other’s arms, and Mac never wants to leave, even though he knows they have to soon.

Jack squeezes Mac close and he whispers in Mac’s ear. “Come back to me, darlin’.”

Mac pulls back just enough to look up into those perfect brown eyes and while Jack is smiling at him, he hears Jack’s whisper again. But his lips aren’t moving.

“Jack?” Mac asks, backing away, terrified. This hasn’t happened before. Jack continues to lay there watching him and Mac strains to hear the whisper that appears to be in his head, not in front of him.

“Mac, baby, don’t go. Please don’t go. Just give me one more day, sweetheart, please.”

Jack sounds like he’s crying, voice a ragged whisper near his ear.

Mac doesn’t know what’s happening. Maybe his brain has finally dissolved enough into madness that his brain is just making stuff up now. It’s oddly unsettling though, that it’s Jack’s voice he’s hearing as he descends further into insanity.

“I’m right here.” Mac answers the whisper, he looks around the room and when he turns back the bed’s empty. It’s just his dark bedroom and he’s alone. “Jack?”

“Mac, baby, I’m right here. Fight for me, sweetheart. One more day.”

Mac doesn’t understand. He wants to scream out his frustrations. What the hell does that mean? He doesn’t want anymore days if Jack’s not here and he’s alone again.

“Jack, I don’t understand!” He yells at the empty room and sinks to his knees, claps hands over his ears as the whispers grow louder. “Help me...” he whimpers and realizes his body suddenly hurts, all over. Who knew losing your mind would hurt this much?

“Mac, it’s okay baby. I’m here, just come back to me. You’re doin’ so good, Mac. You’re so strong, I’m so proud of you.”

Mac writhes against the pain starting to overwhelm him and sobs against the floor. “Jack, help!”

“Mac, come on, baby... give me one more day.”

Mac falls into darkness. 

—  
—  
—

The first thing Mac can determine when he comes around again is that something’s wrong.

There’s no AC/DC playing. His room is dark but not the right kind of dark. He’s cold and alone in a bed. 

But he’s not completely alone. His hand is held tightly in a warm grip. He stares at the hand’s owner, who’s softly snoring near his hip, for a long few seconds and tugs. The second he does a familiar, sleepy face pops up to look in his direction.

“Jack?” 

Jack’s face crumples immediately and between one blink and the next, he’s wrapping himself around Mac, crying softly against Mac’s chest. He just holds on and doesn’t let go.

When Jack finally calms and sits back down so that they can stare at each other, he kisses Mac’s knuckles and sniffs wetly.

“Good god, I’ve never been so happy to see those blue eyes.”

Mac just stares and Jack frowns when he realizes Mac doesn’t seem to be hearing him.

“Mac, baby, you with me?”

The naked worry in Jack’s face spur Mac’s eyes to fill with tears. “Please tell me your real.”

Jack presses the call button on the bed controller and takes Mac’s other hand in his other free one, squeezing them both gently. “I’m real. You’re safe. Stay with me, okay?”

Mac nods and lays back into his pillows. Nurses are all over him in less than a minute, one checking vitals while the others ask question after question. By the time they’re done, Mac’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open and he clings to Jack’s hand for dear life.

“Jack, what-?”

Jack wags a finger at him but his eyes are glimmering with overwhelming emotion. “Let’s not worry about details right now. All you need to know is that you’re gonna be alright. Just rest and I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Mac wants to say so much right now but he’s losing his battle with sleep. He’s sinking down into the dark again and he grips Jack’s hand with all the strength he has. Jack kisses his hand gently once more and holds it safely between both of his.

“Don’t worry ‘bout nothing, Mac. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Mac sighs. “Love you...”

Darkness claims him again before he can hear a reply.

—-  
—

“Can you hear me Mac?” Jack asks when he wakes again and for the first time in a long time Mac isn’t afraid to be awake.

“Yeah.” Mac groans and when he looks around this time he sees he’s in the Phoenix medical ward. He recognizes the ugly colors and small room layout because he’s been here way too frequently. But Jack is still holding his hand, still in the same chair, chin overgrown with stubble and bags under his eyes that tell of a long stretch of days. Mac groans again and tries to experimentally stretch to find the source of all his discomfort but Jack stops him with a gentle squeeze to his fingers.

“Hey baby, don’t do that yet. You’ve been through the wringer. Can you tell me where you are?”

Mac swallows, wincing at the scratch in his throat and nods. “Phoenix medical.”

“That’s good.” Jack breathes, “do you remember why?”

Mac tries to look back into his memories but all he can recall is a few hundred dead Jacks and he shakes his head.

“That’s okay.” Jack tells him, grabs his phone to send off a silent text. “Doc said that’s normal.”

“What’s normal? What happened Jack?” 

“Do you remember the museum?” He prompts, waiting in perfect stillness for Mac to respond.

Mac tries to think and gives up when the only thing that comes to mind is Jack laying on the floor bloody after the mass shooting. 

Jack sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, clearly debating what he should say. “We got a mission to the museum of natural history in New York.”

“Artifact heist.” Mac supplies and Jack nods.

“But it wasn’t a heist as we’d originally thought.” Jack continues, taking a breath. “There was a biological chemical hidden in the air ducts. The heist was a ruse to gas and spread a potent viral toxin.”

“I defused it.” Mac whispers, recalling to a Wednesday where he’d crawled into the ducts and found the gas machine. Jack nods again and he wipes at his eyes a little.

“Yeah but you got directly exposed to it. Fail safe trigger. You got a full dose of it. By the time we found you in the ducts you’d already lost consciousness. You’ve been in medical for just shy of ten days. The guys in the lab were able to cook up an antitoxin for you but it wasn’t given till two days ago. You’ve been on and off hallucinating, high fever, organ failure, the works. Jesus Christ Mac... they didn’t think you’d ever wake up.” He says the last part as a whisper and hides his face against Mac’s thigh, the unsteady rattling of terrified breathing shaking him. Mac just strokes Jack’s hair and lets the man have a moment to pull himself together, going over the scene Jack’s painted in his head.

When Jack is calmer, Mac finally manages to say, “I only remember bits of it. I... was dreaming, I think. It all felt so real.”

Jack nods, still shaking a little as he recalls the first few days in horror, like he guessed as much. “You had to be sedated early on because you were screaming in your sleep. They didn’t know how to help you and you were technically contagious till you received the antitoxin. They let me visit with a containment suit but they wouldn’t let me stay full time. I thought I was gonna lose my mind when they wouldn’t let me stay with you.”

Mac understands Jack was just as trapped in a nightmare as he was it seems, unable to fight back or solve the problem, just stuck in an endless loop of helplessness. Mac scoots over on the bed and pats the open spot beside him.

“Get up here.” He begs and Jack is up and holding him, tender arms settling around his shoulders.

“What else do you remember?” Jack asks after a moment of quiet, both of them marking the passing of time by the sounds of each other’s breathing.

Mac shakes his head. “Not sure what’s real. I dreamed about you a lot. I dreamed you died. Over and over again. I could never save you though...” his voice breaks and he has to focus on taking in a full lungful of air for several long moments before he can speak again. “God Jack, it was the same day over and over again, each day brought a new way for you to die and I... Jack I can’t imagine another day without you in it. I know we haven’t talked about us, about us being together but... I love you Jack and you have to know that I’ve never been more serious about having anyone in my life than I am about you.”

Jack doesn’t say anything for such a long pause Mac wonders if Jack is trying to figure out a nice way to let him down, to tell him that he cares but not long term forever care, when he hears Jack take in a shuddering gasp.

“God Mac, me too. I love you. I could never live without you.”

Me too, Mac thinks.

They fall asleep, holding each other so tightly, neither ready to let go after the emotional whiplash they’ve both suffered. When they wake, there’s still a lot of healing to be done, but it’s to a new day and they’re together. That’s all Mac needs to know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack’s pov
> 
> Two OC characters make an appearance, they are impossiblepluto’s creations, nurse Reese and Doctor McClain. They felt appropriate for this portion of the story.
> 
> Many thanks to impossiblepluto and KatieComma for brainstorming to help me finish this beast!

Jack’s life is inextricably tied to Mac’s life.

That’s just the way it is. He knows that. His little family knows that. Hell, now that Mac and him are on the same page emotionally, Mac finally knows that.

But knowing that and feeling that are very different things. That’s never been more clear than right now, watching Mac taking each slow agonizing breath under the ghostly glow of UV lights.

Jack watches Mac’s chest rise and fall, even while he thinks about what it’ll mean if it stops and never starts again. Each breath is terribly loud in the room. It echoes like a roll of thunder in Jack’s head, despite his ears being covered by the medical protection gear the med team insists on him wearing.

It’s been countless hours of this. Jack’s desperate for answers, for something to do to help but there’s nothing to do but wait.

Jack tracks every rise and fall of Mac’s chest. Memorizes the sound, studies the shape of it expanding, listens for any change and thinks.

Rise.

He thinks about the terrifying moment when he pulled Mac free from that vent in the museum. How he had been choking, wheezing already, face covered in white powder. Jack thinks about the way Mac had sagged nearly completely limp as the paramedics loaded him on to a gurney.

Fall.

He thinks about being sent to a separate quarantine after they had arrived at the New York hospital, mostly because Jack had been in the vent with Mac even for a few moments to pull him out. About how he waited and waited for nearly twelve hours with no news about his partner. About being horrified that when he received news it wasn’t anything good.

Rise.

He thinks about the horrendously long flight home from New York. About the way Mac had looked corpse pale and fever flushed in his little plastic gurney coffin to keep his contagion contained, too alone but too fragile to touch. About the med team that had come to get them and the way they’d silently frown at one another in some ridiculous means of not ‘worrying’ Jack but communicating concern and doubt to each other. He thinks about words he’s heard the med team throwing around, words like ‘anthrax mutation’ or ‘systemic failure’.

Fall.

He thinks about the unfairness of it all. About how they’ve only had a few months of being together they way they’ve always wanted. About how perfect and right they are together and of how he has absolutely no intention of surviving without Mac. He thinks about his means of getting away and into the afterlife to join Mac if the motion of rise and fall ceases to exist. 

Jack’s life is tied to Mac’s. He’ll be with him in the now or the next life.

Rise like a phoenix or fall like Icarus.

Till the kaboom. Jack waits. Mac breathes. Times passes.

—  
In the earliest hours of the third day, Mac’s condition tips the scales toward worse.

Jack doesn’t know what time it is, but he’s woken up by a familiar gentle voice at his shoulder. It’s time for him to go out and get hydrated and fed again, let Riley and Bozer try to pep talk him into not giving up. He doesn’t want to but it’s the deal he’s worked out with the med staff. They’ll let him stay for a few hours if he’ll leave when they tell him to and given that Mac’s stuck in a status quo between life and death, he figures that’s probably the best deal he’s going to get.

The voice who woke him, their favorite corpsman turned nurse, is Reese. She gives him a gentle smile and pats his shoulder as he rises from the lumpy bedside chair. He’s only made it three steps away when Mac’s strained scream startles him into running back to the bedside. He takes Mac’s hand in his and squeezes hoping he can ground Mac if he comes back to awareness.

Unfortunately Mac doesn’t wake up but he continues to scream. Each bellowing yell that rips for his throat is a spike in Jack’s heart and Mac doesn’t seem to be able to hear him as he tries to offer what little comforts he can. Mac struggles on his bed and it takes Reese and Jack both to keep him in it, a med team rushing in to gently restrain him in medical cuffs. He’s sedated shortly after when it becomes apparent that whatever his fever induced delirium is making him see, isn’t going to stop anytime soon.

Jack sleeps in Matty’s office on her couch for his break from his vigil. He can’t bring himself to go any further than that. He’s back in Mac’s room the second he’s allowed to be.

——

Time passes like syrup in the medical ward, like it exists as a paranormal dimension outside of reality.

Jack can’t do anything to help Mac other than be here. He talks, hopes it keeps Mac’s mind together in whatever dark nightmare world of fever dreams he’s stuck in, he holds Mac’s hand in a firm grip, and hopes Mac can feel him being here. There isn’t anything to be done but wait and Jack stays. 

While he talks Mac gets worse. His breathing sounds rougher, like he’s drawing in every lungful over gravel and sandpaper. Jack resolutely ignores it.

Jack talks about everything imaginable. About the ranch. About the color of the sky back home. About the difference between California and Texas weather. Then he talks about what home means to him, that it’s not a place on a map but a spot beside Mac. He talks about how much Mac has changed him, how he’d be a non-functioning piece of a outdated machine if Mac’s not here with him.

Somewhere along the line, mid way into the third night, his talking becomes borderline angry ranting.

“Do you even know how unfair it is that you made me love you like this, huh? How could you do this to me Mac? You made me love you and your genius brain and your big heart and then you have the nerve to go put yourself on death’s door and just leave me here... c’mon man, you’re better than that. For god sake Mac, you can’t leave me like this...”

Jack reigns himself in with a few unsteady breaths. He watches how Mac shivers so hard his teeth chatter, tiny sounds of distress escaping despite being heavily sedated still. The poor kid looks miserably pale under the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the flush in his cheeks from the fever determined to smoke him out of his own body. Jack rewets the washcloth the nurse told him he could use and he wipes Mac’s face with it, gentle as he can and tries not to cry when Mac turns searchingly toward the comfort it provides, desperate for any relief.

“I’m sorry I got snippy with you man, but you’re tearing my heart up here. But you know I’ll forgive you if you just fight a little longer. Another day or two, that’s not too much to ask, is it? Eight years isn’t enough time Mac. I know it’s selfish but I need a little more time, okay? You can do that for me, right?”

Mac continues to breathe so Jack takes that as a yes.

——

On the fourth afternoon, Doctor McClain comes in to talk with Jack. 

The doctor explains in great detail that Mac’s condition is worsening thanks to a biological toxin that he was exposed to. He explains that the people responsible for creating this monstrosity had made it without a counter measure and that the lab was working on it, but time was against them right now. He mentions that Mac’s blood work shows clear signs of his body fighting back against the toxin but they’re worried about the long term effects of the fever still ravaging his system. He mentions the real possibility of organs failing and brain damage.

He’s a very intelligent doctor and Jack is grateful that he works for the Phoenix. It’s an honest to god relief to have someone as experienced and knowledgeable as he is looking out for the foundation.

Those are the main reasons Jack doesn’t fucking punch him in the nose when he tells Jack they need to ‘have realistic expectations.’

Jack just nods, grips the rails of Mac’s bedside and stays quiet. When he’s alone with him again he studies Mac’s face, the way his eyes twitch in a constant restless REM state despite the drugs in his system. The purple under his eyes is eerily similar to a lot of dead soldiers Jack’s seen and it’s hard to look at.

He continues to hold Mac’s hand and readily ignores the med team and pitying looks.

——

Early into the fifth morning, in the quiet pre-dawn, Mac’s condition takes a nose dive even as the fever races higher. 

Jack’s jerked alert by Mac’s hand snapping tightly closed around his. At first, he thinks it might be a good thing but when that hand snaps open then closes again Jack is all too aware that it isn’t. He hits the call button and uses his free hand to rub Mac’s arm, trying to soothe him in whatever way he can.

In less than a minute, Mac’s hand starts to twitch in harder jerks and by the time a nurse shows up, Jack’s had to throw himself across Mac’s body as he flails in a violent seizure. More nurses come along and eventually the seizure slows thanks to something added in the IV line. 

Jack can’t bring himself to move from the corner he was pushed into when the med team took over. All he can do is stare at Mac’s limp form resettled in his bed, the tiniest bit of blood in the corner of his mouth. He’s still trying to remember how to move when a familiar feminine masked face blocks his view of Mac.

“Jack?” Reese calls quietly and Jack blinks a few times before he can answer.

“Yeah?”

“You alright ?” She wants to know and Jack wants to laugh at the ludicrous question, because of course he’s not alright. But he knows what she means. He feels a little sick, and she can probably see it in his face.

“Yeah, I’m- I’m okay.”

She nods and guides him away from the wall with a light hand on his shoulder. “when’s the last time you took a break?”

Jack glances at the wall clock and sighs when he realizes in the commotion of Mac’s seizure he lost an hour. “Time again.”

She gives a knowing little smile and guides him toward the door, but he can’t stop himself from trying to keep his eyes on Mac as they walk. “don’t worry.” She assures, “he’s going to be out for a little while. He’ll be here when you get back.”

Jack certainly hopes so.

——-

The fever is consuming Mac, his body literally being destroyed by the raging heat within. Things go from bad to worse.

Even with the sedative, Mac’s labored breathing turns to weak coughing. He doesn’t have the energy to fight in his delirium but he moans and mumbles frequently. His nose drips blood at regular intervals like a leaky faucet and the stronger coughs usually produce a light splattering of red on his lower lip. Jack dabs it away and tries to pretend it didn’t exist.

Reese and another nurse come in somewhere in the early afternoon, discussing the meds Mac’s been given and what to expect. 

Jack listens, even though he tries to ignore them like they’re not there. He hears them talk about the seizure Mac had early this morning, that they’re expecting more as the fever continues to push him toward the edge. Hears them say that they’re worried about his lungs, about the possibility of clotting and hemorrhaging. Hears them mention Mac’s on code watch. The new nurse leaves and Reese comes over to Jack for a moment.

“Headin’ home for the night?” Jack asks, examining the too bright blue veins in Mac’s hand for a lack of better things to do.

“Yes sir, I am.” Reese answers softly, “You should consider going home too, Jack. I’m sure Mac wouldn’t begrudge you going home to get a quick shower.”

Jack huffs a little laugh at that and takes the hand he’s been studying tighter into his own. “You tryin’ to say I’m startin’ to stink?”

Reese chuckles a little, a light bell ringing laugh before her face goes somber again. “How you holdin’ up, Jack?”

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a slow breath through his mask. “I’m hangin’ in. Just wish there was somethin’ I could do to help him.”

“You’re doin’ the best you can Jack. The lab says they’re close to an antitoxin solution. Shouldn’t be more than another twenty four hours.” Reese offers and Jack turns to her, feeling his answering sigh rattle in his chest as it escapes.

“Do you think he can hold out that long?”

Reese doesn’t answer for a long moment. “After all these years of working with you boys, I’ve learned not to doubt stubborn Macgyvers.”

Jack huffs a wry sound and nods. “He’s certainly one of a kind.”

Reese goes to answer him when a succession of three sharp beeps has their heads snapping up at the monitors. Jack looks at Mac’s chest and realizes it’s not moving at the same time he hears the nurse’s sharp words.

“He’s coding.”

Reese runs to the wall and slams a button behind the bed before she springs into action, the sound of Mac’s monitors beeping loudly in warning. She lays the bed flat before she leaps up and onto the bed to straddle Mac’s waist and begins chest compressions.

Jack can hardly breathe as he watches. “No, not now... please...”

Reese is using all her body weight to shove down on Mac’s chest and she glances at Jack just once, a brief flash of determined dark eyes before she goes back to watching the monitors. It seems to take an eternity but it’s only probably a minute later when the med team arrives with a crash cart and Dr. McClain in tow. The room becomes absolute chaos and Jack can’t see much as they work, only a glimpse or two of Mac’s rag-doll limp body as it’s prepped for the shock paddles.

McClain is calling orders out to the staff around the bed and the replies Jack can’t make sense of until he hears, “stand clear.” And the god awful thump of electricity being forced into Mac steals the sound from the room.

“No pulse.” A nurse reports and McClain bares his teeth as he turns to the cart for a moment.

“Going again. Clear.” McClain orders and the thump-jump sound echoes again. Jack doesn’t know when he fell to his knees but his hands scrabble at the cold tile of the floor as he sobs.

“No Mac no... please not like this...” Jack begs even as his vision blurs through his tears. “please, Mac...”

“Reese get him out of here!” McClain shouts over the noise in the room even as another nurse reports a lack of response from Mac’s stubborn heart. Reese and another nurse gets their arms around Jack and start to bodily drag him toward the door and he can’t stop the whimpering pleas that fall from his lips.

“No please! I can’t leave him! He’s my everything, don’t make me leave him, please I’ll do anything...” 

Once they’re out of the room in the decontamination area, the other nurse leaves them to rejoin the fight and Reese stays. She puts her arms around Jack as he cries into her shoulder and he can’t stop himself from clinging to her, left free falling with the impending rush of Mac’s death.

“Reese, please...” Jack cries brokenly, “he can’t.... I can’t do this without him...”

“I know, Jack I know...” she soothes, arms tight around his shaking frame. “They’ll fight for him, Jack. We gotta give em’ time to work. Deep breaths for me now, okay? Don’t give up hope.”

Jack hangs on to her words because he can’t do anything else.

—-

Mac lives, clings barely to life by his fingernails, whether he knows it or not. Jack’s beyond relieved when he gets the news but it’s tempered by the terror of how close a call it was and the fact that he could slip away at any moment from his precarious perch on the border of living.

They say they won’t let Jack back in the room. They don’t give him a real reason, but he wonders if it’s because they’re afraid of what he’ll do if Mac actually dies. But Jack has no intention of accepting no for an answer when his current reason for living lays alone on his deathbed.

Jack grabs McClain as he goes to walk away and tells him he’s going in, whether they want him to or not.

He hears everything they say as they try to advise against it.

Mac’s too deeply sedated to hear Jack, it won’t do any good.

The risk of contagion as Mac continues to cough is higher due to the blood in his lungs, Jack could be exposed.

Jack doesn’t need to punish himself this way, watching Mac go out in such a sad state.

He tells them that it doesn’t matter. He’s staying. There’s no where else for him to be.

They, reluctantly, let him in and Jack retakes his post by Mac’s bedside, takes firm hold of his partner’s hand. If Mac’s going to be taken from him, death itself will have to pry him from his fingers.

—-

They give Mac the antitoxin, early on the seventh morning but Mac is already so deep within his sickness, so frail and exhausted that the nurse who gives it can’t even bother with platitudes of hope. He sees it in the their eyes. The end is near, Jack gets it, one way or another it all be over soon.

The march of time continues and Mac breathes in his slow painful way. Jack breathes with him, wills his own air to be enough, like maybe he could breathe for Mac if he’s too tired to keep going.

Hours tick by like an eternity. Jack wonders, not for the first time, if this might be hell, if perhaps his eternal punishment is to watch his beautiful fearless Mac waste away and suffocate in his sickbed. It would make sense. Jack’s done some awful things in this life, and it’s the only reason Jack can think of logically for why he’d be alive while Mac lay dying.

In the middle of the night, a heavy stillness settles over Mac. He’s still breathing but each pause between lungfuls of life giving air is longer and each next breath sounds softer than before.

It’s too quiet. Far far too quiet.

“Y’know...” Jack says quietly, as he leans in to be closer to Mac’s ear. “If I was any kind of a decent person, I’d be tellin’ you that it’s okay for you to go. I’d say that you’ve fought long enough, that you can rest now. I’d say that I’ll find you at the pearly gates. But I ain’t no decent person, Mac. I’m selfish as hell and I want you to stay. You’ve been so strong through all this shit, baby, but you goin’ first will never be an option I’m okay with. But...” Jack can feel himself choking up on the tears that want to come but he clears his throat to keep going. “If you can’t hold on.... I’ll understand. And... you don’t need to be scared because I’ll be right behind you. But if you can, sweetheart, I want you to hang on. We’ve still got so much to do. So many more movie marathons. So many more sleep in Sundays. I mean, we were just gettin’ started, y’know.”

Jack can’t help the tears as they start to fall down his cheeks, cold and stinging. “God Mac, don’t go... I need you to stay. You better be listenin’ to me goddamnit. Get it through your bull-headed skull. Come back to me.” 

A sob steals the fire from his words so he leans in and whispers in Mac’s ear. He hopes that if these are the last words he can say to Mac, if maybe Mac hears him, then Mac will hear them from a lover’s tone, not a drill sargent.

“Come back to me, darlin’. Mac, baby, don’t go. Please don’t go...” Jack can’t help the break in his voice as he begs Mac to stay. He gently wraps one arm around Mac’s head so that he can get him closer, lets the hand that falls into his hair card down in a little sweeps. “Just give me one more day, sweetheart, please. Mac, baby, I’m right here... fight for me, sweetheart. One more day.”

Jack holds onto him as gently as he can and lets his tears soak into the gown on Mac’s shoulder. He can barely keep himself from wailing, does his best to bite down on every wretched sob that scorches up his throat as he sits back to wipe at his eyes.

He’s so busy trying to calm himself, he almost misses it.

Mac’s hand is flexing on the bed. Jack does a double take, glances at the fingers twitching in front of him, up at Mac’s face, then back to the fingers. It’s different from the way they had moved before pre-seizure. Before they had been hard involuntary muscle jerks but now, they’re moving slow, searching. 

Jack puts his hand back into Mac’s and squeezes, tries to keep the fragile and wild hope building in him small. “Mac, it’s okay baby. I’m here, just come back to me.”

The fingers around his tighten, just a fraction but it feels deliberate. His eyelids flutter for the first time in a very long while, not waking but still reacting. “You’re doin’ so good, Mac. You’re so strong, I’m so proud of you.”

Between one breath and the next, Mac makes a a hissed sound but it’s the most beautiful sound, he’s ever heard. “...J’ck...”

Jack kisses the back of Mac’s hand despite the mask being in the way but he doesn’t let it deter him. “Mac, c’mon baby... give me one more day. Keep comin’ baby. I’m right here waitin’ for you.”

—-

Just before sunrise, Jack feels a tug on his hand and when he looks up Mac’s glassy blue eyes are looking at him with absolute exhaustion. But they’re open. 

“Jack?” He whispers in a voice crackling like broken glass, and Jack can’t bring himself to hold back from his first reaction. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around him, face buried in Mac’s chest. He needs to hold Mac, to feel him awake and alive in his arms. The tears come too fast for him to slow them down but he’s so relieved he can’t bother with facades of calm. Mac’s alive, after so many hours of certain death looming over them, he’s awake and giving the grim reaper the middle finger. Jack has never been so happy in all his life.

When he can finally pull himself together, Jack presses his masked cheek against Mac’s hand and sighs. “Good god, I’ve never been so happy to see those blue eyes.”

But Mac doesn’t respond, just stares at Jack like he’s going to leap up on the bed and strangle him to death. “Mac, baby, you with me?”

Mac’s eyes flick around the room for a second and a tear falls in slow procession down his cheek. “Please tell me you’re real.”

Jack hits the nurse call button before carefully taking Mac’s other hand into his own. “I’m real.” He vows, “you’re safe. Stay with me, okay?” 

Mac nods but he looks like he’s going to pass out any minute. He settles back into his pillows and the room is turned inside out as nurses charge in.

It takes a few minutes and more than a few prompting of questions but the nurses are satisfied and they leave them to a bit of privacy. Mac is visibly struggling to keep his eyes open and he’s holding on to Jack’s hands with as much power as he can muster. Mac starts to ask him what happened, but Jack isn’t going to let him get that far. He waves a hand and shushes him quietly.

“Let’s not worry about details right now. All you need to know is that you’re gonna be alright. Just rest and I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Mac, his sweet stubborn typical genius, clearly wants to argue with him, wants answers, but he’s too tired to fight. He clings to Jack’s hand and starts to drift off so Jack presses another kiss to it, this time with a promise.

“Don’t worry ‘bout nothing, Mac. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Mac’s easy sigh as he closes his eyes and tips backward into sleep’s embrace is everything Jack wanted to hear and more. He whispers just as he relaxes into his pillows. “...love you.”

Jack nearly sobs. “I love you too, baby.”

By noon on the eighth day, the fever has completely disappeared. And by dinner time Mac is moved to a new room. They make Jack step out so they can change Mac into a fresh gown, clean him up and Jack’s so fucking relieved he doesn’t care what they ask of him now, he’d do anything they say. 

Doctor McClain pulls Jack aside the next morning and declares Mac to be no longer contagious. He gives him a rundown on everything he should expect and all the things he’ll need to do to help Mac through the disorientation that he’s bound to feel. Jack takes careful note of everything but he knows a lot of it will just be a case of handle it as we come to it. Good thing he’s used to improvising.

When Mac wakes again, they talk for a very short amount of time. They discuss what happened, the seriousness of Mac’s near miss. Mac tells him a bit about the terror of his fever dreams and the mental anguish it left behind is written all over the blonde’s face. They both get a little emotional and Jack ends up spending the day holding Mac and half sleeping on the edge of his bed. It doesn’t matter that they both barely fit, they won’t be apart from each other, comfort be damned.

—-

A week passes before Mac is deemed strong enough to go home. He’s still in a weakened state but he’s safe enough to sleep in his own bed and that’s all that matters to Jack.

It’s a relief to see Mac back at home, whether he’s snoring in their bed or on their couch it doesn’t make a difference. It’s the normalcy that means so much, the softness of home glowing around him. It eases the pain in Jack that thought he’d never get another moment of any of this and he’s never been so grateful for anything.

He becomes Mac’s personal servant. He can see Mac sort of hates it, the whole mother hen thing, but must be able to sense how much Jack needs this opportunity to take care of him, to reaffirm the reality of still having someone to fuss over. Mac is a brave soldier and endures regular fever checks, being tucked in by thick wool comforters and the dreaded phrase ‘are you okay?’.

Even so, Mac’s a lot more cuddly than usual. He seems just as eager to spend his every spare minute with Jack. Even to the point of being paranoid when Jack’s out of sight too long. On the second morning, Jack had woken up to get breakfast and left Mac asleep in their bed only to race back when a piercing scream of Jack’s name had echoed from down the hall. When he’d gotten there, Mac had been hyperventilating and the look of unbridled teary-eyed terror in his face had Jack grabbing Mac up into his arms like Mac isn’t a grown man himself and bridal carrying him to the living room so that the early morning light could wash away whatever fear Mac had dreamed up. Mac wouldn’t say what had happened, only clung to Jack tighter and asked in a whimpered whisper if this was real, relaxing only when Jack reminded him that he was home and safe.

By the fourth day of being home bound and Jack’s over the top worrying, though, Mac’s patience has worn thin. He gives Jack a look after another (third that morning) fever check that’s usually reserved for bad guys and bomb dismantling and Jack forces himself to take the hint and back off a bit. Honestly, it says a lot about Mac’s love of Jack for how much of Jack’s fussing he puts up with. 

At about the seventh day of being home, Jack makes them turkey sandwiches and they settle in for an Expendables marathon and it’s so relaxing. Things are starting to feel normal, not so frantic, less tense. Mac seems to be sleeping easier and Jack doesn’t find himself staring at the way Mac’s chest moves quite as often. They make it to the climax chase of the first movie when Mac yawns and leans over to put his head in Jack’s lap. He’s almost asleep by the final fight scene and Jack isn’t bothering watching the movie anymore. 

He cards his hand through Mac’s hair and admires the look of utter peace in his lover’s face. 

“Mac?” Jack asks softly, not really expecting an answer given how deeply even Mac’s breathing but he gets a quiet hum in response. “I hope you know you’re the best thing in my life.”

Mac’s ever blue eyes crack open and he looks a touch concerned but he offers a soft smile. “I know. You’re the best thing in mine too.”

“I’m lucky to have you.” Jack adds, feels himself getting a little emotion-thick in the throat and Mac’s brow furrows.

“Same here.” Mac studies Jack’s face a little closer. “You’re not about to propose right now are you?”

Jack barks a laugh, a little wet but no less happy. “Nah. I just...” he sniffs and shakes his head a bit, a little embarrassed about getting sappy but his happiness is unparalleled so he doesn’t see the sense in trying to hide it, especially from the person who’s the reason for it. “I’m just glad you’re here, darlin’. Guys like me usually don’t get things like this.”

“Happy endings?” Mac clarifies and Jack shrugs. 

“Not just endings. It’s the little stuff in the middle too. The quiet times. I just didn’t realize before what it would be to not have all that until you let me share those quiet moments with you and then to almost lose you...” Jack shrugs again, still stroking Mac’s hair, and he feels Mac’s hand cup his cheek in light touch. When he looks down Mac’s eyes shimmer like sunlight in tropical waters and he’s giving Jack that gentle smile that belongs to Jack only.

“There’s no one else I’d rather have those little moments with.” Mac promises softly and Jack takes the hand cupping his cheek away to press a kiss to the pulse point of his wrist. “And I intend to have a lot more of them with you.”

Jack nods, trying to look stern. “You better. I’ve put a lot of work into keeping your skinny butt alive. You owe me.”

“Oh I do, huh?” Mac snorts.

“Hell yeah. At least another twenty years.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I figure it’s more like thirty.” Mac says blandly, like they aren’t talking about spending the rest of their lives together. 

Jack laughs. “Thirty years? Well if you think you can keep up with me that long...”

Mac yawns again, closing his eyes as Jack continues to stroke his hair. “I’ll do my best. But let’s get started tomorrow. Or the next day. M’still tired.”

“Sure, Mac.” Jack agrees on a content sigh. There’s no rush. Tomorrow’s another day after all.

—-


End file.
